


Sense of Security (Like Pockets Jingling)

by lzrd



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Character Study, Egregious Displays Of Wealth, Gen, Humor, Post-Doomstar Requiem, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 16:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3074360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lzrd/pseuds/lzrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Charles solves problems by throwing money at them and Abigail is insulted but still kinda touched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sense of Security (Like Pockets Jingling)

**Author's Note:**

> title's from midlife crisis by faith no more

Abigail values organization above all else. Some would argue that it's her defining trait and it's no secret that she attributes her incredible success to her ability to keep her shit together when everyone else is losing there heads-- a phrase that's taken on a grotesquely literal meaning lately, in the wake of funerals and kidnappings and rescues (and _ohshitTokipleasebeokayohgod_ ). So when a Klokateer shows up at the doors to her quarters (#4130, skinny, knockneed, _nonthreatening_ ) requesting her presence at Lord Offdensen's office tomorrow at noon my Lady, she makes sure to arrive exactly on time.

She's twenty four seconds early. It's the first thing Charles notices when the knock on his office door drags him out of the throes of the paperwork-induced fugue state he'd descended into for the past couple of hours. As he calls her in he feels a faint sense of endearment towards her for being the only person in his life who bothers to attend meetings on time-- if at all, but he carefully shelves it. "Ah, Abigail," he says. It's for her benefit only of course, he'd seen her on the security cam before she'd entered, but he liked to keep up appearaces. "Please, have a seat."

She moves across the office and he takes note of the bags under her eyes, the stiffness of her movements as she drops into the chair he's indicated. He offers her some brandy but she declines. _It's a shame_ , he thinks, _she looks like she could use some_. "So," he starts, "I'm sorry to call you in so soon after the, ah, incident but, well, I'm not going to be here much longer," his shoulders tense up like he wants to fidget nervously but knows better "and I wanted to touch base with you before I wrapped up here." His expression is a touch too solemn to be neutral and he must notice her surprise because he shoots her a smile. The unexpected sincerity of it is disarming, and she smiles back without thinking about it.

"What exactly did you want to touch base about?" She doesn't break eye contact but she looks briefly uncertain as she straightens her shirt cuffs.

"Regarding recent events, and things that have come to light in the wake of the incident," he replies, admiring the flash of steel that sharpens her gaze "specifically your reimbursement."

She leans back, incredulous. " _Reimbursement_?"

"Yes, of course," he breezes past her disbelief with the practiced ease of someone who makes the improbable (and sometimes impossible) happen for a living, "it's an incentive i've set up for my boys when they cooperate. You taking care of Toki when--"

Her eyes soften at the same time her arms come up to cross over her chest and Charles realizes the reaction for what it is. He changes tack. "Anyways, you've been very helpful. You deserve a reward." His expression is mild, and were the sentence coming out of anyone else's mouth it would sound creepily suggestive, but Abigail only feels sort of insulted. She half expects a Klokateer to wheel out a cart loaded with vouchers to the local strip club and Cinnabon gift cards-- none are forthcoming, so she turns her attention back to him, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

"Usually the boys get something small, like a new car, but considering all you've, ah, done--" he shuffles some papers on his desk, and she opens her mouth to cut him off, tell him she doesn't need a reward-- "how do you feel about Lithuania?"

She pauses, disconcerted. "I've never been. I'm not interested in a vacation right now though."

"Oh, my mistake." He grins and she understands all the lamps in the office, the light glinting sharply off his teeth. "I meant, how do you feel about owning Lithuania?" Gobsmacked, she shuts her jaw so quickly her teeth click.

After a moment she manages to get ahold of herself enough to grind out "What would I do with Lithuania?"

He raises his eyebrows like she's said something unexpected and starts reeling off facts, deadpan, like he's memorized them "Fastest upload and download speeds in the world, rapidly growing technology industry, lots of music festivals--"

Slumped in her chair, she rubs her temples. "This is ridiculous."

"You love music festivals." It isn't a question.

Her response is firm. "No thank you."

He looks disappointed but doesn't say anything as she leaves.

Later, she returns to her room and discovers the slim box on her bedside table. She resolves to be only mildly offended about the entire thing when she opens it to discover the necklace, inlaid with diamonds, the biggest in the center the size of her eye, with a faint blue tint.

And if anybody recognizes it when she wears it to the next press conference, nobody says anything.

**Author's Note:**

> the hope diamond is a famously cursed huge rock


End file.
